


Not Alone Do We Stand

by aidennestorm



Series: Protecting and Proud [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Banter, Discussions of sex, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Pining, Rogue Inquisitor - Freeform, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:22:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25432297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidennestorm/pseuds/aidennestorm
Summary: Bull provides Adaar some much-needed distraction—even if it’s not the kind of distraction she truly wants.
Relationships: Female Adaar/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Series: Protecting and Proud [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2176734
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Not Alone Do We Stand

The stars are beginning to twinkle in the dark expanse over Skyhold when Adaar strides into the Herald’s Rest, winding her way around crowded tables until she stops in front of the corner the Chargers have long since claimed as their own. “I need to borrow  _ you,” _ she announces, pointing at Bull, “before you have too many of  _ those.” _

Bull drains the rest of his tankard, the one she’s now pointing at, while the Chargers whistle and whoop like she’s come for more illicit purposes. She rolls her eyes and sighs, though it’s laden with fondness instead of exasperation; better to focus on the good-natured teasing than proving them right by staring at the long pull of muscles working in his thick neck.  _ Stop acting like a fucking mabari in heat, Adaar, _ she thinks sternly.  _ You’re not even  _ attracted _ to him! _

She turns on her heel when Bull stands to follow as requested, only briefly allowing her sheer relief to peek out from behind her feigned indifference, and even only  _ then _ because no one can see her face. By the time they reach the nearby training ring, her expression is smooth once again. 

After Bull passes her to pull their weapons off the rack, Adaar forces her restlessness into purposeful motion. Toeing off her boots and shucking her stockings, unfastening her top and shimmying out of her leggings, unceremoniously dumping her clothes in a fenced-in corner out of their way. She feels  _ free _ like this—like a  _ person.  _ Flesh and blood allowed to  _ sing,  _ unleashed from trappings of duty and propriety. 

She feels  _ alive. _

She’s relishing the feel of the spindly grass beneath her bare feet, the mountain chill on her exposed skin, when Bull finally turns with her wooden daggers in hand. “I  _ like _ this!” he announces with a grin, his full-belly laugh echoing in the empty courtyard. “What’s the occasion?”

Bull tosses his handful to her; Adaar catches it, flicks her wrists and spins the daggers in each grip. He looks her up and down, eye suddenly piercing as he more fully takes in the breastband and smalls clinging to the curves of her chest and thighs and hips—and then he shakes his head, hefting the long, weighted pole he uses for sparring into his hand. He starts to circle first; now, Adaar is the one who follows. 

“More like what  _ isn’t _ the occasion,” she retorts. There’s no use lying to Bull; they’re friends, fighters,  _ Vashoth _ and  _ Tal-Vashoth _ besides. Too familiar, too similar, for him to misunderstand why she needs this dance tonight.

“You’re gonna burn that tower down with all the heat coming off you.” He doesn’t specify  _ which _ tower—it’s a purposeful oversight. He suddenly breaks rhythm and rushes forward; Adaar dodges, sidestepping him easily. “I’d offer to help, but I know us  _ conquering _ types aren’t so easy together in the sack.”

She can’t help but laugh. “This is why I love you, Bull.” She lunges, aiming for the broad expanse of his back, but he brings the pole up to block the hit. “You get me.”

“Someone like you?” he says, and he’s not even breaking a sweat, not even breathing heavy, as he swings in an extended arc. Adaar ducks; the pole barely misses the tip of her nose. “You could  _ get _ anyone. Tilt your head forward, Boss; better to lose a horn than your face.”

She huffs a frustrated breath—she knows  _ better, _ damn it. An amateur mistake, her brooding getting the upper hand. He repeats the swing; she still avoids the blow, but this time tucks her chin against her chest. 

Bull whistles in approval. She turns her crouch into a roll, striking out at his shins with her daggers. He blocks those with ease, and she twists aside before the mass of wood can collide with her shoulder. “It’d be easier if I wanted to,” she admits. 

He straightens a little. Sets his pole upright and stares at her as the full tangle of her mood unravels into realization. “You got it that bad, huh?”

_ “You _ know that the heart does whatever the fuck it wants.”

“Turns out my cock does too.” He’s smirking as he falls back into stance. “Sometimes multiple times a night, if he asks for it.”

“Now you’re just  _ gloating.” _

Bull’s eyes gleam. “Gonna do something about it, Adaar?”

She takes the bait, sprinting at him full tilt. He roars and slashes the pole down in a diagonal strike, but she drops onto her knees, slides across the grass beneath the arc and smacks her daggers against Bull’s unprotected side. 

“Fuckin’  _ right _ you will!” he shouts, triumphant.

She springs to her feet, feints a turn away, then strikes at his bicep. He doesn’t even bother with the pole this time, just knocks her with the heft of his body. His broad hand catches her as she stumbles, steadying her—but the abrupt squeeze encourages her to look at him, instead of immediately pull away. “Man like that has a lot of shame,” he says, quiet gravel reminding her of a truth she already knows. “You’ve seen what it took with Dorian.”

Even now there’s pride in Bull’s voice. The satisfaction of earning a well-fought affection. And may all the gods in every pantheon help her, because she wants  _ that _ too. More than any marker on the War Table, more than averting an Orlesian civil war, more than any solution for the thousand challenges in her way. More than a night, a few nights, of passion. She wants to look for Cullen across a crowded room and announce to everyone listening  _ that man is mine,  _ and for him to stand by her side and smile at her in return like she’s the answer to every one of his most fervent prayers. 

Before she can pull herself together and back into sparring, though, an affronted, clearly Antivan protest carries from the direction of the main hall.  _ “Inquisitor!” _

Bull grins. Adaar doesn’t move, only asks, “How angry does she look at my lack of decorum?”

“You remember when Sera put salt blocks in her tea instead of sugar?”

“Shit,” Adaar laughs, helpless and a little strained. It’s too late now to pretend she hasn’t been noticed; she already hears Josephine’s shoes clattering on the steps. “It was nice knowing you, Bull.”

He leans in, voice pitched low and confidential. “Worth it,” he murmurs, “because it looks like someone else came running at the sound of her voice.”

It’s too dark to see anything more across the shaded yard, but she glances up to see Cullen’s silhouette framed in the backlit glow of the doorway. Her whole body suddenly feels both overheated and worn, and she presses her daggers into Bull’s hand before snatching up her forgotten clothes and boots. 

“Treat yourself later,” Bull recommends, with that blink of his eye that serves as a wink. “Hot bath, early shut-eye. Got some toys to borrow with your name on it, if you need some alone time.”

“Right now I’m just trying not to get murdered,” she mumbles. “But… thanks.”

He gives her a final, reassuring squeeze, a lazy wave of goodbye. She uses every stealth skill she has to blend into the darkness and disappear around the corner of the tavern, avoiding Josephine and what must be her imaginings of Cullen’s eyes on her as she slips away.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Adaar is definitely not imagining it. ;)
> 
> More to come with these two, I hope! Adaar is my first Quiz and any iteration of Adaar and my love Cullen is close to my heart.


End file.
